Dinner at Eight
by Debbie Kluge
Summary: Race attends a scientific conference with Benton where his past catches up with him.


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Dinner at Eight

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by

  


Debbie Kluge

  
  


Written in response to the Valentine's Day 1998 fan fic challenge by Carlos Rodriguez

  
  


A huge black sedan darted nimbly through New York City traffic and pulled into the circular driveway of the Waldorf Astoria hotel. It came to a stop in front of the main doors, and the bellman stepped forward and opened the passenger door. A tall, distinguished man emerged and stood for a moment gazing at his surroundings with interest. On the other side of the sedan, the driver's door opened and another tall, handsome man got out of the car. His stark, white hair was in sharp contrast to his youthful features and compact build. He looked around with an eagle eye, seemingly taking in everything around him. Finally, he turned to his companion and said, "Well, we made it . . . and before the weather hit, too. So . . . what's the plan?"

"I'm going to go in and register. Can you handle everything here?" Benton Quest asked.

Race Bannon nodded and moved to the back of the car. "Go ahead," he replied. "It will take me a few minutes to get all of the equipment unloaded. I'll move the car after we get this stuff to the storage area, and then bring in our luggage."

Benton nodded. "That should give me time to check in and confirm the location of the conference hall. We can transfer the equipment directly to the storage area. Then, I'll check the inventory while you handle the car."

"Good. I'll be with you in a few minutes." Benton disappeared into the front of the hotel as Race turned and reached into the recesses of the trunk, fumbling for the various cases. Wind whipped around the corner of the building and large flakes began to fall from the sky. Within minutes, it was almost impossible to see across the parking lot. A scientific conference in New York . . . in the middle of a blizzard. Great. He sighed as he pulled out the equipment and loaded it onto a luggage cart. He could think of a lot better ways to spend Valentine's Day.

From the corner of his eye, he caught a flash of yellow as a taxi flew past and pulled into the loading zone in front of him. The motor idled quietly and he heard a door open. A soft, indistinguishable voice spoke briefly, a car door slammed, and then the click of heels on paving stone was clearly audible. Suddenly, the steps hesitated and a familiar voice said, "Race Bannon! As I live and breathe . . ."

Race straightened abruptly and stared in amazement at the woman who stood before him. A hat sat rakishly atop her warm brown hair, and the smile that shone on her face made her amber eyes sparkle. "Diana Cruz!" Reaching out, he folded her into his arms and hugged her enthusiastically. "It's wonderful to see you again. You're here for the conference?"

"Of course! What else? When I heard that Benton Quest was the keynote speaker, I thought I might run into you here. You're looking wonderful . . . life seems to be treating you well."

Race laughed. "I do all right. And you? What are you up to now?"

Diana grinned at him. "Oh, all kinds of exciting things. Is there any chance that we can get together?"

"By all means! Benton's got a meeting with a group of colleagues this evening and I was going to be left to amuse myself. But now that _you're_ here . . . how about dinner? Say . . . eightish?"

"Great! Do you know your room number?"

Race shook his head. "No, not yet. Benton is checking us in right now."

"Well, why don't I go do the same, and then stop back here. We can exchange room numbers and I'll call you once I get free."

"Sounds good. I'll be here." He grinned to himself as he returned to unloading the equipment. Maybe this wasn't going to be such a bad Valentine's Day after all . . . 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


"Okay, Benton, that's the last of it," Race said as he handed the small case to his employer. "Unless you need me for something else, I better go move the car before it gets stolen or something."

"No, go ahead. I'm going to look over things here and then head up to the suite. I want to grab a nap before the meeting this evening. I have the feeling that it's going to run until all hours, and I have to be in the conference hall by 7:30 tomorrow morning to get everything set up. I'm afraid this particular trip is going to leave you at loose ends most of the time."

Race grinned. "Don't worry about it. I'm sure I can find _something_ to keep myself busy." He waved as he walked out the door, and headed back for the main entrance to the hotel. As he rounded the corner into the lobby, he ran into another old acquaintance . . . literally. The force of their impact sent the woman staggering. Race reached out to steady her and said, "I'm _**so**_ sorry."

Laughing, the woman smoothed her chestnut hair and responded, "So, Race Bannon, we meet again. There is never a dull moment with you, is there?"

"Natasha? Natasha Rostova?" He stared at the beautiful Russian in delight. "What are you doing here?"

"I am here for the conference, of course. And I know that Benton Quest is presenting, so I do not need to ask why you are here." She looked down at her watch quickly. "I am late for an appointment, but perhaps we can get together later, yes?" She moved very close and looked up at him seductively. "I would _love_ to hear all about what you have been doing since I saw you last. Dinner, perhaps?"

He looked at her and, feeling a bit dazed, said, "Dinner? Yes, that would . . . **NO** . . . Tonight? No. No, I can't do it tonight. I'm afraid I already have other plans." He shook himself mentally. "How about tomorrow?"

"Oh, what a shame," she pouted. Her sea green eyes gazed at him speculatively. "And on Valentine's Day, too. I am afraid I cannot do it tomorrow. But perhaps drinks, then? Say five o'clock? Surely, you can spare a few hours for an old . . . friend . . . " Somehow, that last word sounded a bit loaded.

"Drinks? At five? Yeah, I think I can make that. Why don't you give me your room number and I'll meet you there."

Natasha pulled a small pad of paper and a pen from her briefcase. Jotting something quickly on the pad, she pulled off the sheet and handed it to him. "I will see you at five, Race Bannon. I am sure we can find something to do until you must join Benton Quest." Then, with a secretive smile and a cocked eyebrow, she moved toward the elevators.

Race stood for a minute, eyeing the room number on the piece of paper with a sense of uneasiness. Three hours. He could make this work . . . he hoped. 

  


~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  


By the time Race got to the suite, Benton was sleeping soundly. After stowing the luggage, he double-checked the security systems on the doors and windows, leaving the interior doors slightly ajar when he finished. Then he decided that it would be a good idea to get ready for his evening a little early, so he proceeded to shower and change. About an hour and a half later, Race was reading in one of the overstuffed chairs, trying to relax, when a knock on the door interrupted him. He frowned slightly as he rose to answer it, wondering who it could be. He wasn't expecting anyone, and the hotel didn't usually give out room numbers. _It must be Diana,_ he thought, as he released the chain and started to open the door. _She's the only one who has my room number._

"Hi," he began. "I thought we. . ." Then Race stopped short as he looked at the woman who stood on his doorstep.

"Hello, Race," she said, walking in the door. "You're a hard man to track down."

"Estella," he said, weakly. He closed the door behind her and turned, trying to think of what to say. "I . . . I didn't expect to see you here."

"Why not?" she asked, settling comfortably in the chair he had recently vacated. "This is the single most influential scientific conference of the year. And considering Benton's topic is new advances in computer applications for research, I naturally thought that you would have expected me to attend."

Pulling up a second chair, he sat down and said honestly, "I hadn't even thought about it. Is Jess with you?"

"No," she replied. "I left her with my parents in Colombia. I have to leave tomorrow, right after Benton's presentation." The look on her face changed subtly and she smiled at him. "Actually, I was hoping we could have dinner." The look she was giving him was decidedly suggestive. "I seem to remember that we used to have a lot of fun on Valentine's Day."

All of a sudden, Race Bannon felt like a man on a sinking ship. Reluctantly, he replied, "I wish I could, Stel, but I'm already committed for dinner."

"Oh," she said, her disappointment clear. "Well, can't you . . ."

"Estella?" Benton Quest stuck his head through the partially open door. "I thought I heard a familiar voice. How are you?"

"Very well," she replied, smiling. "I'm looking forward to your presentation tomorrow." She waved a hand at Race. "At the moment, I'm trying to convince my ex-husband to take me to dinner, but he says he's not free. Can't you release him into my custody, just for the evening?"

Benton arched an eyebrow. "Don't look at me. I'm involved in business tonight. I thought you were going to be all alone this evening, Race."

"Well . . ." Race shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "I ran into an old friend and we've already made plans."

"Oh . . . well, then how about drinks before dinner?"

Race shifted again. "No, I can't. I've got plans then, too. Maybe we could . . ."

Suddenly, there was a sharp knock on the door and he jumped up to answer it, grateful for the interruption. But not for long. He opened the door and, before he could say a word, Diana Cruz breezed into the room.

"Here you are! My afternoon meeting has been canceled and I thought we could just start early and . . ." Her voice died as she caught sight of Estella, and the smile on her face faded as the two women eyed each other warily.

Race cleared his throat with difficulty. He heard Benton snicker as he said, "I'm sorry. I don't believe you two have met. Estella, this is Dr. Diana Cruz. She is one of the leading researchers in transdimensional theory. Diana, this is Dr. Estella Velasquez. Estella is an expert in South American archaeology and ancient Mesoamerican civilizations."

"Hello," Diana said stiffly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Estella replied coolly. An uncomfortable silence ensued. Race looked at Benton desperately, but Benton just grinned back at him with an expression that seemed to say, _You're on your own, buddy._

Before Race could think of a way out of the situation, Estella asked pointedly, "Have you known Race long?"

"Yes," Diana replied. After a moment she added, "He was my bodyguard for quite a while several years back. We became _very_ close and have remained that way. And you? How did you meet him?" There was a clear challenge in that question.

_Yep,_ Race thought in despair, _this ship is sinking and the sharks are circling in for the kill._

"Oh, I met him in Paris . . . at a government-sponsored party," Estella replied easily. "We've know each other for, what Race, fifteen years? Sixteen?"

"Sixteen next month," he replied resignedly. Before he could say anything else, there was another knock on his door.

"I'll get it," Benton volunteered with a grin, moving from his position in the doorway. It suddenly occurred to Race that Benton seemed to be enjoying this immensely. He watched with a sinking sense of foreboding as the older man opened the door. Somehow, Race just _**knew**_ who it would be.

"Ah, Race. I am free early." Natasha strode in casually and eyed the crowd in the room. Her accent thickened slightly as she commented with amusement, "My, you certainly _are_ busy. Introduce me to your friends, darling." Race could only shake his head while Benton stood there, laughing silently.

Finally, Diana Cruz stepped forward. "Dr. Diana Cruz. And this is Dr. Estella Velasquez."

Natasha Rostova eyed the redheaded woman with interest. "You are the ex-wife." Diana did a double-take, staring at the beautiful archaeologist speculatively.

Estella stared at the Russian woman thoughtfully. "And you're the Russian cosmonaut from Trieste."

The woman threw her head back and laughed. "Yes. I am Natasha Rostova of the Russian Space Agency." She looked at the two other women, grinning. "I believe we have a great deal in common. I was to be drinks. Which of you was scheduled for dinner?"

"That would be me," Diana replied in disgust. "What were you, Estella?"

"We hadn't gotten that far. Breakfast, maybe?" As one, they turned to face Race Bannon, who stood before them like a man facing a firing squad. "Well?" Estella asked him pointedly.

Race looked back at them without answering. He couldn't think of a single thing to say that wouldn't get him into even more trouble. After a long moment, he thought he saw a flicker of mischievousness flare deep in Estella's green eyes.

"Ladies, I have an idea. Since we know that Race doesn't have any _other_ commitments this evening . . . Or do you, my love?" she cooed sweetly. Race shook his head mutely. "Well, then I suggest that the _**four**_ of us entertain ourselves . . . together . . . for the rest of the afternoon and evening."

Diana's low, delighted laughter made Race's heart sink, and Natasha agreed, saying, "What a wonderful idea! I am sure we have much to talk about."

Natasha grabbed Race by one arm while Diana took the other, and the two women began dragging him toward the door. Estella moved to stand next to Benton, devilish anticipation reflecting clearly in her eyes. "This promises to be one of the most interesting Valentine's Days I have spent in a long time." Suddenly, she grinned wickedly. "Tell me, do you suppose . . . is this Cupid's idea of fun?"

Benton grinned back at her. "I don't know, but _I'm_ certainly having a good time!" They looked at each other and both began to laugh. With a wave, Estella followed the other three out the door, closing it softly behind her.

  


**THE END**

© 1998 Debbie Kluge

  
  


DISCLAIMER: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest and all characters, logos, and likenesses therein, are trademarks of and copyrighted by Hanna-Barbera Productions, Inc., and Hanna-Barbera Cartoons, Inc., a Turner company. No copyright infringement is intended by their use in this story. All other material, copyright 1998, 2002 by Deborah A. Kluge. All rights reserved. Characters and stories are in no way affiliated with, approved of or endorsed by Hanna Barbera or Turner Productions. This is created by a fan for other fans out of love and respect for the show, and is strictly a non-profit endeavor.


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